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The president of the town council seemed properly scandalized, the reporter interested.
Ollie tried to explain, but Mrs. Franklin, perhaps noticing the cameraman lift his camera, cut off his explanations. “That will be all, Ollie. You can take me back into town, and together, we’ll be stopping by to visit your uncle. I suspect he’ll have something to say about this behavior.”
Huh. Mike suddenly remembered something. Mrs. Franklin, long a widow, was supposedly very friendly with Ollie’s uncle, the former chief. He had to wonder if the woman had been doing some meddling, trying to get her boyfriend’s nephew the job he’d wanted but had been denied.
But she wasn’t entirely distracted by Ollie’s bad behavior. Casting a sour look at Mike, she said, “I expect the council will be calling you to come in to make a full report.”
“I’ll give it its due attention,” he said with a deliberate eye roll, watching as the utterly unlikable duo got into the car and drove away. Frankly, he didn’t give a damn about her, the council, Ollie, or his job. He just wanted Lindsey to be okay.
He turned to tell her that, to let her know he’d be right there by her side throughout this ordeal, but saw to his surprise that she was no longer standing beside him on the lawn. Instead, she was on the porch, opening the door and ushering in the reporter and her cameraman. She had a smile on her face—a weak, rather forced one—but it was full of determination.
Lindsey had finally reached some point of no return. She was taking control of the situation that had been controlling her for months.
He went up the steps. She stood in the doorway.
“Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine, Mike. This is long overdue.”
“Do you need me to stay?”
“No. Thank you, for everything, but I’ve got to do this last part on my own.”
He saw that steel in her, the unmistakable strength, and knew she was right. She had to face the challenge and be the one to beat it. Although it was hard to not keep fighting for her, to not be her protector, he had to let her go. So, with a nod and a brush of his lips on her temple, he spun around, walked down the steps and drove away.
* * *
LINDSEY MANAGED TO retain her calm throughout the entire hour-long interview. She didn’t cry, she didn’t bitch, she didn’t criticize anyone—not other reporters, not her bosses. She was entirely professional, holding on to her emotions with ruthless determination. She had the bloody palms—from clenching her fists so hard—to prove it.
The young reporter was actually very nice and respectful. Once she realized Lindsey was going to give her a scoop—the real story of why the infamous sex doctor had dropped out of sight—she’d been very easy to get along with. She hadn’t exactly asked softball questions, but she’d respected Lindsey’s privacy where possible—including not asking about Mike.
All in all, Lindsey was happy with how it had gone. The local audience might be the only one who ever watched it, but she seriously doubted it. This thing might not get picked up on the national networks, but it would hit the internet—of that she was sure.
Perhaps it would do some good. Maybe when people saw her as a calm, rational, thoughtful professional, they’d stop focusing on orgasms and start focusing on the real issue the PhD had been talking about. That was her hope, anyway.
Of course, her bosses were going to be furious. Far from obeying the edict to stay out of the limelight, she’d sought it out and leaped into it, feet first.
But she realized she didn’t care. She was tired of being reactive instead of proactive, tired of letting others dictate where she went, what she did and how she was supposed to behave. She’d behaved so differently from the Lindsey she’d always been, she almost didn’t recognize herself.
Well, that was over. Done. Even if it cost her her job. Screw it, there were other jobs. She was through being pushed around.
After the reporter and her cameraman had departed, Lindsey was left with some decisions to make. Her first instinct was to call Mike and ask him to come back. There was no one else in the world she wanted to share this moment of quiet triumph with more than him. She might not have won the war, but, damn it, she’d at least picked up a weapon and fought for herself.
But whenever she reached for the phone, two things kept flashing into her mind.
First, she’d just congratulated herself on reclaiming the real her. She was in control again, a one-woman island, strong and determined. How could she regress to leaning on someone else...especially someone else who just wanted to have an affair with her?
If Mike loved her—if he’d told her he loved her, as she now knew she loved him—it might be different. People in love, who were in committed, long-term relationships, should rely on each other. She and Mike didn’t have that, though, no matter how much she might want it. It was high time she remembered that, and stuck to relying only on herself, just as she’d always done.
